Hell Bent for Leather

BPOV

I sat outside the airport sweating, sweltering and gasping for air, her hot leather sticking to the bare skin of my thighs. It felt better than dirty sex in the sanctimonious fluffy clouds of heaven to have my baby back in my hands, but fuck me, I hated this God damned LA heat.

She purred beneath me, writhing at my slightest touch, and even through my annoyance at the forsaken weather, her subtle sounds and gentle, vibrating touch brought a smile to my ruby lips.

"That's right, baby," I said, stroking her gently, "Mama's home. Now make Mama happy and let her hear those sounds she loves so much."

With a feather light graze to her most sensitive part, she purred again and bucked under my thighs. "I've missed ya baby." I said, almost giddy in my longing for her. I shifted my hand, gave her another quick stroke in the one place she liked so much and without hesitation, her engine roared to life and Betty and I were flying down the streets of LA., headed for home.

We pulled into the driveway of my modest little home, and as I always did, mentally thanked the beautiful God who had bought her for me.

"Hey, when I'm around, I need a cozy place to lay my head and someone warm to share my bed," he had sing-songed to me, upon presenting me with my little piece of heaven that most people would call a small house.

"Thank you, David". I had girlishly cooed at him, because he liked it when I played the meek little girl act.

It was his thing.

They all had a thing.

But mostly, they all liked to buy you things, right Bells? I smirked to myself before getting of my car, a thoughtful present from Lou. It had been so sweet of him to remember how much I loved muscle cars.

I ran my fingers across her sleek body as I closed the door and bent to give her a gentle kiss. "It's good to be home, Betts. I really have missed ya." I whispered softly to her.

I gingerly wiped my lipstick mark from her shiny green paint job and gave her a sharp tap on the ass as I opened her hood to collect my bags.

Walking to my front door, I noticed a small piece of paper taped to the ebony colored door. I inched closer, hesitating, knowing on instinct what it was, but wanting to take my time to get there. I wasn't in the mood for this. Not on my first night home.

I groaned as I finally got to the door, ripping the little paper off and scowling at the scrawled message:

Know you're home tonight, bitch. 8pm. Your ass better be there. -Em

How the fuck does he always know when I'm coming home? I internally growled.

Ugh. Fine. Whatever. He knows I'll give in to him. For some stupid fucking reason, I always do.

It's never worth my time. And yet…

And yet. And yet here I am, sitting in front of my mirror, putting on my makeup, like a good little girl. Like he knew I would.

I finished my makeup and bent down to stroke James, the viciously evil, satanically possessed cat who seems to hate everyone but me, reminding myself to thank Sable for feeding him while I was gone.

Poor girl must be full of scratches. Dee Dee wouldn't be pleased. Hopefully Sable won't have the chance to make it back to New York until they heal.

I moved to my closet and started tossing clothes around, finally settling on a variation of the usual. Purple tank top, to match the purple worked into my long brown locks, always a hit with the boys, black leather miniskirt, fishnets, and my 18 hole Docs. I haphazardly pinned parts of my hair up, gave myself a quick once over, James another stroke, grabbed my stash from behind the bottle of Jameson in the cupboard, silently thanking Sable for not stealing it, sticky fingered as she was, grabbed the bottle of Jamie as well, my purse, and donning my signature leather jacket,

Thank you, Darby

And I was out of the house and stroking Betty as I climbed into the driver's seat. Little Jamie, lotta blow, little more Jamie and a long drag from my smoke and I was peeling out the driveway faster than an altar boy could run from a Catholic p-

Yeah, you get the joke, I'll leave that one alone.

I drove past the Whiskey and turned a corner on a small street to park. No way I was leaving Betty to rot on the Sunset Strip alone and unprotected. Bitches would love to get a taste of her, and I wasn't having any of that noise.

Got out of the car and headed to the club. I rolled my eyes at the long line of people just bursting to get through those doors. I strolled past the lot of them and to the front of the line. I tiredly rolled my eyes and inspected my fingernails before I was scooped up in an enormous bear hug by an enormous looking guy.

"I knew ya'd come, Bellsy,

God, I hated when he called me that

It's good to see ya again!"

"Hey Emmett," I said with a smile, trying to get my arms around the walking refrigerator that held me in his grasp. "Miss me, baby?" I crooned, giving up the struggle with my arms and finally resorting to a kiss on his cheek. "At least tell me they're worth it tonight, Em. The last few times you've tagged me like this, they end up sucking worse than a shark giving a blow job."

"Not tonight, Bellsy. I promise. Wait until you see him. He's like the antics of Iggy meets the slow sex of Morrison."

Hmm… The love child of Iggy and Jim huh? Fine, I can stay to watch a song.

A song.

"You'd better be right, Em. Or it'll be your balls."

"My balls, Bellsy? Really?" Raised eyebrow, snarky smirk. All the finesse of a bear trying to fuck a dear… or a dear trying to fuck a bear, as the case may be. "Can I get them wherever I want baby? Like in your mouth?" Low growl, trying to be sexy. I rolled my eyes and squirmed from his grasp.

"Pick up an instrument and get signed with a million dollar label, Em, and then maybe you'll have a chance." I quipped back, kissing his cheek again and flipping the bird to all the jealous assholes waiting outside, bitching because they had to wait in line and I didn't.

Fuck a few rock stars, my mind chided them, and then maybe you'll get some special treatment too, pathetic fucks.

Walking into a packed club like this always felt like home to me. The enticing smell of beer, booze, sweat and puke always sent my head reeling and my teeth to unconsciously bite my bottom lip in expectation.

David had his shy little lolita thing.

Lou had his saucy girl thing.

Darby had his Punk bitch thing.

The wondrous Dave Vanian had his sexy vamp thing.

I had my music thing.

…Well.. Music and money..

Ok, Music and money and fame..

But no one ever said those last two parts out loud.

At least not to my face.

They'd lose teeth. And they knew it.

I made my way over to the packed bar. There wasn't an empty seat in the house. The only other time I'd ever seen the Whiskey so packed was when Darby played. But that was just because that asshole could charm the pants off of anybody.

Including me.

And I don't do lowly barroom musicians.

I wonder how Darby is

My eyes dragged slowly across the bar, looking for an empty seat. There was none to be found.

No matter.

I'm Isabella Swan.

I found a tall, lithe blonde sitting at the bar alone and made my way over to her. Without even a look in her direction, my hip shot out quick as a leopard and sharp as a bee sting and before she knew what was happening, the poor girl was on the floor.

"Bitch, what the fu-"

Her voice caught in her throat when she glanced up to see who'd had the nerve, and an apologetic look finally dawned across her pretty face.

"Oh, Bella… I'm so sorry, I-uh, I didn't mean to call you-"

That's right. Squirm, bitch, Squirm

"Jessica, is it?" I asked, politely holding out my hand to help her up, hiding the smirk that fought to spread across my narcissistic face.

"Yeah, Jessica! That's right!" She said, jumping to her feet and smiling as if she was talking to the Dali Lama.

I flashed my most sincere fake smile and offered her a drink when the bartender stopped and handed me two shots of Jamie.

"Thanks Laurent", I smiled.

"So.." Jessica started, animated. I knew I shouldn't have pretended to be nice. "Are you here to see J.A.S.P.E.R?"